You've Got Soul
by ngrey651
Summary: Demongo the Soul Collector has been given a second chance by Hell. He's to claim the soul of a girl named Tara who has untapped magical power. All he need do is slowly gain her trust and bit by bit, she'll belong to him. But Tara's not your average kid. Will it be she that makes use of the demonic soul stealer? Or will Demongo triumph in the end? Or something else altogether?


_"It's like the song goes...  
>Hell is for Children."<em>

* * *

><p>He let out a soft moan, bitter, hot wind blowing crimson dust about him as he slowly stood up, gathering his wits. His slim body felt like it had been crushed in a vise, seething, burning agony swelling up every few seconds whenever he breathed too hard, and he coughed madly as he swiped at the air, brushing dust away from his pale blue eyes. Slowly the mist that obscured his vision began to fade, and he now stood before a tall, foreboding gate of darkened, sharpened bone.<p>

"What…is this?" The slender figure murmured. "…can it be?"

He reached out with clawed hands, feeling the texture of the gate, the icy cold touch making him shudder as he longed to have his fine satin cloak back, the door swinging open to allow him inside as he looked about. There were imposing mountains that seemed to close him off on all sides save for the way ahead, with a sky that appeared to be perpetually clouded in shades of crimson and scarlet. He walked forward as the dark wind blew more red mist from the dark ground beneath him, a golden brick pathway the only illumination to his destination: a glassy-topped dome structure in the distance with ionic pillars lining the entryway.

Yes. Yes, it was just what he thought it was, seeing a blue figure sitting in a lovely-looking plushy red and golden throne before the dome, sipping from a goblet that appeared to be made of a human skull…the skull gazing at him, eyes pleading, mouthing "help me" as best it could. The blue, red-horned figure looked the slender form over, its bladed tail nonchalantly swishing back and forth, orange gloves over its thick digited hands as it gave him a small, fierce grin.

"Welly, welly, well. Demongo, the Soul Collector. Yet another prodigal son returns. Aku finally decided you'd "failed him for the last time", didn't he?"

"Hello, **imp.**" Demongo muttered, the blue, blazing flames of his "hair" sizzling slightly in annoyance as he looked the orange-neckerchief-wearing imp over, folding his arms over his bare chest, gritting his teeth. "So. Snizzi the imp has become a guardian to a Door to Damnation?"

"I'm more than just "a" guardian. I'm the St. Peter of Hell, Demongo." Snizzi bragged with a hearty, childlike laugh. "I now decide where the damned go! Better still, I'm not Emperor of the Major Arcana, with Mastery over base animals…and Hell itself."

He flicked a digit up, Demongo gasping as the ground beneath him began to shake and shudder, splitting open as the former soul collector jumped to the side, avoiding being turned into a fiery blob of grease as a burning lake opened up. Skulls in perpetual agony, continuously screaming, all rose to the surface as Snizzi tossed the goblet he had into the lake. "SWEET RELEASE!" It cried as it sank beneath the waves.

"It's good to be the king." Snizzi sighed wistfully. "And just to show you there's NO hard feelings for your constant insistence you being the right hand man to the shape-shifting dark wizard to top all dark wizards made you soooo much better than all of us, I'm willing to give you a job."

Demongo inwardly gulped. He didn't like this one iota. When Aku, Master of Evil, had chosen him out of all the demons in Hell to be of use to him, he'd used his soul-stealing powers to hunt down warrior after warrior, taking out many a threat to the monstrous shapeshifter's reign of terror. And he'd rubbed the immense power he'd gained in everyone's faces time and time again before finally departing Hell to more permanently serve Aku…only to be destroyed by his master for failing to slay one particular swordsman, his master's greatest threat of all. Seeing that horrific grin on Snizzi's face, Demongo knew his constant mocking of the "lesser" creatures of Hell was about to bite him in the behind.

"What…kind of job?"

"I might think you're a pompous, arrogant fool but…well, I've never said you weren't skilled and clever when you wanted to be." Snizzi remarked. "We in Hell are always on the lookout for corrupting new souls. Specifically we wanna hook 'em while they're young, and one soul in particular up in America, this girl I've had my eye on has immense magical power just waiting to be tapped. If you were to claim her soul for Hell and turn her to our side, well…" Snizzi snapped his "fingers" again as the throne vanished and a small portrait popped up in his hands, showing a ponytailed blond girl with a slightly shy smile. "It would be quite the feather in our cap."

"What's the catch?" Demongo inquired. "I would think you'd ask somebody such as Barubary or Vassago for that, those you call comrade. Not that I couldn't claim her, but…you've got a nasty "but there's a snag" look in your eye." He inquired of the imp, raising a nonexistent eyebrow up.

Snizzi held up a digit, counting off. "For one, the girl must willingly surrender her soul to you and to us. Otherwise, she won't be ours to use. Two, you're very weak, and you need souls to regain your full magical power, and frankly, the ones we've got here are only useful as furniture and kitchenware, not for leeching off magical might." He added, the burning lake's inhabitants moaning again.

"THE ONLY POINT OF LIVING IS DYING!"

"**Shaddap.**" Snizzi said, clapping his hands as the lake closed up into another crevasse, the imp rolling his eyes. "So you'll have to find a way to claim souls on your own when you're up there. And finally…" He smirked a bit. "You cannot let anybody but the girl see you unless you're going to claim their soul."

"What? I can't just burst into her home and hold her family hostage unless she gives me her soul?" Demongo inquired. "Why, pray tell, are you inflicting these rules upon me?"

"Well for one, I don't like you. And two…we're being watched." Snizzi added, handing the picture of the girl, the name "Tara" underneath the frame. "Heaven has its eye on us. We play by these rules and the playing field is level and fair." The imp's eyes turned an even darker shade of red as he snapped his digits again, this time the doorway he was in front of swining open, Demongo cringing in horror. A purple-skinned, humanoid devil was crucified-upside down on a wheel, mouth sewn-shut as several whispy, dark hands continuously turned the wheel back and forth, around and around, making the opened-up chest he had plop his organs out, then get shot back in when the wheel was forced backwards.

"Is that CRAIG?!" Demongo proclaimed in horror, eyes widening in surprise.

"**Craig** here broke the rules and just tried to straight-up invade Portland." Snizzi roared out. "Isn't that right, Craig?"

"MMMPPGGGHHH!"

"Indeed." The imp remarked with a dark grin. "The archangel Remiel force-fed him his own teeth. When he finally returned, I decided to make him an example of **why** we don't blatantly disregard the rules of the great Challenge we're in with Heaven. **Isn't that right, Craig?!**"

"MMMPHHAAMMMMM!"

"Oh, I'm, I'm sorry, Craig." Snizzi mocking intoned, holding a hand up to his "ear" region of his spiky head. "You-you got a little something across your mouth there." He giggled, clapping his gloved hands as the doorway shut, Demongo looking down at the picture.

"…so. Just one girl, eh?" He murmured. "…well, the mightiest oaks can grow from the smallest of acorns." He said with a dark grin. "She'll be mine within a year." 

…

…

…

…Tara Kovsky never really had what you would call a "good" day. It was just a day where she got by. Nothing exceptionally nice ever seemed to happen to her, nothing exceptionally bad, just…meh. Oh sure, occasionally the cafeteria would sell chocolate cake, and that was a tiny plus, and once in a while, one of the kids would see her drawing alone in the library in school and tell his or her other friends "Tara terrifies me". But even then, it wasn't to her face, so…not that big a deal.

But all of it added up. Added up to an existence of "Life isn't very good, it isn't very bad, it isn't very **anything**". In a way, that was worse. Because when things were genuinely bad, it meant things were **happening** to you. It meant a certain degree of excitement, perhaps, or a rush of emotion like sadness or anger. You might even get some catharsis from complaining about how awful a day you had. You **remembered** bad. Nobody gave a damn about the ORDINARY.

So the bluish/purple-eyed girl sat in the back of the bus, in that same singular seat she always did, sighing as she rested her head on the window and looked outside. Same old, same old. She'd return home to find another note on the fridge that read she should fix herself some dinner, Mom would be back after 7:00, same old, same old. And after frying up something on the grill, she'd just head to her room, go to her desk, and draw to make up for the lackluster day she had. Same old…same…old.

What she'd give for just something different to happen-

"Why are you always drawing that disgusting stuff?"

Tara grunted as she opened her eyes, turning to see Bella staring at her. Geez. The 12 year old girl with the most adorable freckles in the world and the most grating voice she'd heard since "Scrappy Doo". She and her friend Betty were peeking over their seat to look at Tara like she was a bug under a microscope, and Tara "harrumphed" at them.

"Hey, it's not "disgusting". The Seals of Solomon are cool. Looking up all the demons and stuff he bent to his will to help build things is really neat!" Tara insisted as she folded her arms over the purple dress she wore.

"It's creepy." Betty muttered. "I mean, there's one that's just a triangle with eyes all over its body. Why can't you just draw normal stuff? Like ponies or the Ninja Turtles or something?"

"I draw Angels too!" Tara defended.

"Yeah, but they're always ripping demons apart. It's gross. We don't know why the teacher picked that to be on display in the art room. Who wants to see somebody getting impaled with a spear so hard an eyeball pops out?"

Tara snorted. "That's the scene where Raphael the Archangel slays the former angel-turned demon Leviathan. It's a heartbreaking tale of betrayal and tragedy and lost love. You girls just can't see past the gory stuff like the teacher's can because you're too immature." Tara mumbled.

"It's scary, Tara. I mean, if it was just something you did once in a while, but…doing it all the time?" A boy across the bus said, glancing up from his copy of "Catcher and the Rye" he had to read for English class, his black, floppy hair falling over his face as he glanced away from the book to look at Tara. "And I mean, you're a good artist but…its still kinda scary."

Tara looked somewhat hurt. Usually Hal liked her artwork and he'd never, ever insulted it or criticized it before, but hearing this made her stomach clench. She bit her lip as the bus reached her stop, heading down to the cobblestone path that lead her to the oak door of her home. She pushed the door open, heading inside the faint whitish/yellow house, looking across the living room and at the open doorway to the kitchen, a few newspaper articles lying on the table.

No note on the fridge…mom must have forgotten. Well, at least they had Chinese food to prepare, that would cheer her up some. She sighed as she looked down at the newspaper, searching through for the comics. Usually "Monty" would have something funny-

Ugh. She cringed at one of the "A" section articles. A bunch of pigs had been vandalizing the library and this time the police had almost caught them setting fire to the janitor's shed. They were the same jerks that had crushed up Ms. Hodgkin's lovely little Christmas display on her front porch just last year. What kinda sicko burns Frosty the Snowman alive-

Burns…burning?

_Sniff-sniff_

Something wasn't right. Something _smelled funny_, Tara murmured inwardly as she sniffed at the air and glanced about. It kinda smelled like…something was on fire? And the odd aroma apparently was wafting down from upstairs. This made no sense, Tara thought inwardly. No cooking was ever done up there. And if you were going to do **arson**, wouldn't you start at the bottom of the house, not the top? Why-

She got her answer as she opened up the door to her faintly yellow room, eyes widening at the cloaked figure standing before her, his "hair" a pillar of burning flames his eyes the same pale, intense blue as he gave her a chilling small smile, speaking in a slightly high-pitched, ethereal, unsettling voice. "Hello, my dear."

Tara immediately slammed the door shut, screamed, and bolted down the stairs for the kitchen to **immediately** grab an immense amount of salt and the biggest knife she could find, Demongo "hmmphing" as he swept out the door and down the stairs. He floated down the steps as if walking on water, sighing as Tara began going through the kitchen cabinets, a large bag of salt in one hand as he inwardly cringed. Clearly the girl had studied demons well.

"I'm NOT here to cause trouble. I'm supposed to be in your servitude." He informed her, Tara slowly turning around, giving him a slightly unsure look. "I've lost nearly all my power and unless I obey you, I cannot get it back. I couldn't rip your soul from you right now even if I wanted to."

The claim was partially true, which is what gave his words a sense of power. Tara seemed to ease up, putting the salt bag to the side and folding her arms across her chest, the young lass looking him over. "I've read all up on Solomon and how he controlled demons to make them do his bidding. You need to swear you'll do what I ask of you and no more, no less."

"You are quite clever for your age." Demongo complimented with a bow of his head. "Very well. I officially swear my loyalty to you…"

"Tara. Tara Kovsky."

"Tara Kovsky, you have my loyalty. What is your desire?" Demongo asked. All he had to do was get her to trust him more and more. It would take a little while but…he could be patient.

"…for starters, I'd like to draw you. Can you, like, just stand over there?" She asked, pointing at the living room, Demongo stupidly blinking before he hovered over to the red carpet in the center of the room, sighing as she went to get her drawing pad and pencils from her backpack. He watched her fish them out, then plop down in a nearby chair, beginning to sketch him, slightly chewing on the pencil with every few strokes.

It wasn't long before she'd finished a rough draft, and she held it up for him to see. "Be honest…whatcha think?" She asked nervously.

Demongo stared at it, surprised. It was actually an astonishingly good likeness, especially considering she wasn't even 12. Perhaps some wonky perspective, but other than that…

"I'm…impressed." He remarked with a nod. "How'd you learn such a skill?"

"Oh, I had a lot of free time on the bus, so Dad suggested I do something with it. I was doodling what I thought some of the demons from the Bible looked like and he said they looked really nice, so I just started drawing on the bus, then in the library, then at recess…" Tara admitted as she took out her colored pencils and began filling in the sketch with as vibrant a color palette as her Crayola pencils would permit.

"Why does Demonology fascinate you?" Demongo asked of her.

"They're just so…COOL. The stories in the old religious texts just appeal to me." Tara said with a shrug. "Everybody has something that just speaks to 'em, right?"

"True…" Demongo mused aloud with a small smile, showing off a sinister grin. "Like this cloak you see." He admitted, holding it up as Tara looked it over. "I had it personally made with satin dyed in the blood of ten thousand innocents who all sold their souls to my master for favor. Each of them cut into their palms and added another lovely splash of red to my cape." He sighed wistfully. "Ahhhh. Good times."

"Who's your master? Satan?"

Demongo snorted. "**Him**!? That pathetic little sellout-no." He shook his head. The girl was trying to play him. She wanted him to give away everything about him for some kind of weakness she could no doubt exploit. "No, no, no, my dear. I'm not telling you any more. I don't want you using that information against me. I am Demongo the Soul Collector, and I don't divulge my secrets so easily."

"I could MAKE you…" Tara said nonchalantly…before giving him a small, dark little grin. "But I think I CAN get you to talk of your own accord. Just you wait." She said with a small laugh before holding up her finished work. "Done! Whaddya think?"

"It is a **startling** likeness." He complimented. "Anything else you'd ask of me? I should warn you, I'm not supposed to be seen in public, and I doubt you'd enjoy having a demon walking around with you. Everyone would think you're an evil little girl."

Tara nodded. This was true. If she tried to just have a demon walk around with her to show off to the kids at school, they'd think she was satanic and would probably immediately drag her to a church for an exorcism. Still…an idea was coming into her head as she looked over at the kitchen and thought back to the library vandals.

"I've got an idea." She murmured. "…can you put a scare into some jerks who've been trashing people's stuff without them seeing you? Scare them enough to make sure they never try it again?"

Demongo grinned in a sadistic fashion. "Oh, you've no idea…" He murmured. "I may have little power now…" He said, rubbing his currently-bare chest, yearning to have more souls under his command. "But I've strength enough for such a thing."

"These vandals have been trashing the local library a bunch of times. We're gonna **stake it out.**" She proclaimed, slamming her fist into her palm. "Give 'em a fright. Make sure they don't ever-EVER come back!"

"Whatever did you have in mind?" Demongo innocently asked with a slight tilt of his burning head.

…

…

…

…the moon hung low in the night sky, a bitter, cold wind blowing through the trees, scattering leaves everywhere. The hoodie-wearing fivesome who'd been vandalizing the library were indeed on their way back to the scene of their crime, ready to take it to the next level. When it came to vandalism, there was a real issue of "escalation". A need to one-up yourself. And whilst spray-painting private parts and horrific insults on the side of the brick walls of a library just one block from an elementary school wasn't too bad for a small town hood like Henry and his gang, they wanted more. No, no, no. Today, they went for racism.

"So, whaddya think?" Henry asked as he gave his black-hooded friends a s—t eating grin behind the bushes they were crouching behind. "N-ggers go home? Or maybe "F-gs get out"?"

"No, no, let's go with BOTH!" His pal Bob remarked with a big grin. Good ol' Bob. He always knew exactly what to say. He held up his red and blue spray cans and shook them, the guys all nodding in agreement. "That'll make these prudes flip out!"

"Hey, we can't forget the ladies. I'm gonna spray a little special something for the librarian to see. Want I should leave her number so everybody can call her for a **real good time?**" Henry asked as they slunk towards the library wall, glancing left and right to make sure nobody was watching…unaware of the form hiding in the tree limbs above, blue eyes glinting with malicious aforethought.

"Ah, thank goodness for Google. Truly the internet's the ultimate bathroom wall." Bob admitted. "Should we start with the number or the racist stuff?" He wanted to know, a black, clawed hand stretching out, shooting a tiny little blue flame that sank into the top part of the library wall…the bricks slightly quivering as the gang kept talking to each other.

"Rock, paper, scissors. You win, we start with "n-gger f-gs", I win, we start with the librarian-THE HELL?!" Henry jumped away from the wall, gasping in surprise. It…the thing had moved. He'd seen the wall move. "That…that can't be. Did the wall just inch forward?!" He muttered.

"Henry, what's up?" Bob asked, the other guys looking at each other as Henry stared from them to the wall.

"I just saw the f—kin' wall move, it was twitching and-"

Soft crumbling. The wall was beginning to shake, the guys glancing left and right as they looked at each other in confusion, Henry and the others backing away. "How in the-"

Then they saw it. Faces beginning to swell out from the wall, impressions of hands struggling as if to break free from the prison within. Their faces were stretched in endless screaming, howling as they stared accusingly at the boys, Tara grinning as she sat on the roof of the building, looking down at the terrified gang.

"YoU dEfILe Us…" The faces in the library wall began to hiss and snarl, the impressions getting larger and longer, now almost big enough to reach out and grab them, hands becoming full arms, heads becoming upper bodies, stretching, seeking to ensnare and crush. "YoU wIlL sUfFeR eNdLeSsLy In ThEsE wAlLs As We DiD!"

"GAAAAAAAAH!" Henry and his friends shrieked, howling in fear as they dropped the spray cans, bolting away down the street, barreling as fast as they could to get away from the f—ked up sight they'd just seen as Tara laughed and laughed, wiping away a tear from her eye as she struggled to catch her breath.

"Hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo…ohhh, man. Those guys are so **totally** never gonna get a good's night's sleep again! They thought they were so tough, marking up a library wall. They're just chicken deep down." She giggled, Demongo flying over to her with a large jump, bowing his head.

"I trust the demonstration of power was to your satisfaction? Minor illusionary work is all I can really do at the moment."

"Oh, definitely." Tara complimented, clapping her hands together and nodding eagerly. "Take me back to my room, and then you can leave me until I call tomorrow." She said with a smile. "Uh…how CAN I call you, by the way?"

"Oh…" He rubbed his chin. Hmm. He needed a way to keep an eye on her and for her to contact him. Wait. He had it. Concentrating, he created a small mirror in his palm, handing it to Tara. "Say my name into it thrice, and I'll heed your call." Demongo told her as the area around her began to blur and swirl together before, with a POP, she was back inside her room, Demongo fading away. "Until next time…"

Tara smiled as she looked down at the mirror, putting it on her nightstand and plopping down in bed, feeling pretty darn good. For once, her day had been…exceptional. **Extra**ordinary. And she liked it a **lot**…

…

…

…

…Henry panted and heaved, struggling to catch his breath, his friends already racing for their houses no doubt as he laid against the wall of the alleyway, just a few blocks from home. He wiped his brow free of sweat, cringing a bit as he took in deep, harsh, ragged breaths, trying to comprehend what he just saw.

"C-Couldn't be real…" He murmured. "C-can't possibly be real. I couldn't have just seen that." He muttered, holding his head in his hands, shaking his head back and forth. "I…I was just seeing things. Gotta lay off the wacky tobaccy." He suggested in his panicked voice.

"Oh, I'm afraid it was all real."

Henry's blood turned ice cold, a high pitched, ethereal voice echoing through the alleyway as he glanced about, the shadows beginning to stretch out further and further as he glanced left and right. "Who's there?!" He called out, the voice giggling slightly as Henry almost faintly felt clawed hands grasp his shoulder. He whirled about, the shadows continuously widening, encompassing the entire alleyway in utter blackness as his eyes turned wide as saucers. "WHO'S THERE?!" He screamed.

_"I…am the Soul Collector. I…am your end. I…am Demongo…"_ Demongo whispered out loud, his voice echoing out from everywhere around Henry in the inky abyss he was now trapped within, burning blue flames beginning to surround Henry as he could feel their sizzling heat threatening to tear into his flesh. But then he saw the demon himself stepping out of the dark expanse as if emerging from a coffin of water, eyes shooting open, a horrific grin on his features as the blazing blue pillar of flame atop his head burned intensely like a torch from Hell.

"Wh-what do you want?"

"I want your SOUL, my boy." Demongo informed him, suddenly in Henry's face, grabbing him by the neck, claws digging in as the teenager struggled to break free, messy brown hair flopping about as he futilely squirmed about. "And I always get what I want in the end." He added, whispering into Henry's ear, fanged maw suddenly engulfing Henry's mouth as a horrific, pulsating pain began to stab into the teen's body, dark fire shooting down up from the tip of his toes to the top of his head, his screams being swiftly silenced…

The alleyway was now utterly empty, Demongo now standing alone, licking the flavor off his claws before letting out a soft burp, something beginning to slowly push out from his chest. He smirked down at it, a human skull now sticking fully out from the top right corner of his chest…right next to Henry's other friends whom he'd already claimed in a similar fashion. He rubbed it slowly with a single claw, a look of ecstasy on his face as he savored the residual taste of essence left over in his mouth before sighing wistfully. Not quite as…savory as more "noble" souls, but because these ones were young, they made up for it.

Still, they were mere appetizers. Tara would be the main course. He could already feel more power swelling up inside him like a symphony beginning to finally get underway. Demongo smiled, sinking deep into the shadows, returning to whence he'd came, dreaming of what he and Tara might do tomorrow…

And for some reason, his mind flashed back to the picture she'd drawn of him. He wasn't quite sure why, but…he couldn't get it out of his head. It had made an…unusual warmth rise in him when he'd beheld it. How well she'd drawn it, the heart that had gone into it, the eagerness of her…

He blinked a few times as he now stood back on the plains of Hell. He hadn't felt this way since…

Since…wait.

_What?_ Had…why did he have this feeling there was something important just on the tip of his tongue he couldn't say, something in the corner of his mind he wasn't **quite** able to grab hold of? Maybe it was recognition. He had been a servant of Aku in a much distant future, had he, perchance, met her descendant once before?

He'd figure it out, Demongo mused aloud. Eventually. He still had time. Five souls was nothing to shake at…a few more captures like that and he'd be back to full power in no time! And the first thing he'd do after getting Tara's soul…

Would be making Aku **SUFFER FOR CRUSHING HIM ALIVE.**


End file.
